An Alternative Summer
by Phoenix Crystal Star
Summary: Every summer, Harry returns to the Durselys, and doesn't leave until someone gets him. His fourth summer is different. He realizes that if the wizarding world doesn't believe them then why should he follow their rules? He leaves, and goes on his own term.


**Hello, this is my first Harry Potter fanfic so be gentle. I always loved Harry being a rebel and going against canon so I wrote it my way. Hope you like it!**

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><p>Chapter 1<p>

In Number 4 Privet Drive, in a tiny bedroom, on a lumpy mattress, laid an unhealthy thin teenaged boy. Emerald eyes stared at the dirty white ceiling. Thin pale spiderlike fingers clutched the rag-like blanket underneath him. His light pink lips were pressed together in a very McGonagall-like manner. They loosened to allow out a reluctant sigh as he turned to look at the digital alarm clock, that he had repaired numerous times before. '3:01 AM' it read glowing dimly. The sun wouldn't be up for at least another three hours. Now was his time to act. He swung his legs over the bed, stood up, and walked to the wardrobe. Opening the door of the closet, he saw his reflection on the small mirror attached to the inside of its door.

Raven hair stuck out at odd angles, but still managed to frame his thin face. Pale, porcelain-like skin glowed gently from the light of the old lamp. Long thick lashes framed shining emeralds. Sharp high cheekbones adorn his face. His nose was slightly crooked from healing unevenly after Dudley gave him a welcome back punch. He had grown during the two weeks he had returned to Privet Drive, and was now five foot three. Ignoring the mirror, he heaved his truck from the wardrobe. Then pulled out a large hiker's knapsack. The next thirty minutes were spent with him transferring the contents of his truck into the knapsack. Once his trunk was emptied, he lifted the loose floorboard near his bed. Inside the small space was a black plastic bag, which he quickly removed it. After a small battle, the large trunk finally fit underneath the floorboards.

One done with his self-appointed assignment, he changed from his current attire; baggy pajama pants and gray oversized t-shirt. No dressed in a cleaner shirt, jeans that are closer to his size, a light blue sweatshirt, and a pair of trainers. Pushing his round glasses up his nose, he swung his knapsack onto his shoulders. He went to Hedwig's cage, and unlocked it. The snowy white owl flew out and landed his shoulder.

"Good girl, Hedwig," he petted her head. She bit his finger lovingly.

"Now go to London, okay," he opened the bedroom's window. With one last snip at his finger, she flew away. He watched as she flew until he couldn't see her anymore, and then drew the curtains close. He took his digital watch from the bedside table, and strapped it one. Turning on his heels, he left the dirty room. Skipping the creaky step, he went down the stairs, and got to the front door. He checked his watch again. '3: 50 AM' it read. The next witch or wizard will be here to patrol Privet Drive in ten minutes. Ever since Voldemort came back two weeks ago, Dumbledore assigned wizards to guard him during the summer. He turned the knob, and pulled open the door.

He took a deep breath of the cool night air. Without hesitation, he dashed from the street of Privet Drive. He didn't stop until he reached the Main Street. A red phone booth caught his attention, and approached it. After dispending a quarter, he dialed a number, he had memorized for over two weeks. The person on the other side picked up on the third ring.

"Hello, George's Cab Service, how may I help you?" a groggy voice asked from the other side of the line.

"I need a ride to London. I'm in Little Whinnings, on Main Street, next to the red phone booth, name's Harry." The boy's voice was rough from lack of use.

"Got it," the cab service hung up. The fourteen year-old boy stood with his hands deep in his pockets, waiting for the taxi. He checked his watch again. '3: 59 AM' it read. A wizard with a Dissolution Charm would be at private drive any minute now. It would be morning before anyone noticed his disappearance though. Nine minutes later, a black cab, with yellow strips and 'George's Cabs' printed on the side doors, stopped in front of him. The cab driver, a middle-aged man with a short red beard, rolled downs the window of the passenger seat.

"Ye'r te one woo ordeered te cab? Harry ri't?" the driver spoke with a coarse Irish accent.

"Yeah," Harry climbed into the backseat of the taxi. The driver looked at the boy suspiciously from his rear-view mirror, but shrugged. He had seen stranger people in his cab during ungodly hours before, after all.

"Wharr to, boy?"

"London."

"Al ri't then." The cab ride lasted one and twenty seven minutes according to the cab meter and Harry's watch. Neither of them spoke to each other until the end.

"60 pow'nds an' 20 ce'ts." Harry gave him seventy pounds from his pocket. A few nights ago, he had taken the emergency three hundred pounds from on top of the Durselys' refrigerator.

"Keep the change," he left the cab and walked down the London street. Despite the time, the streets still had a cars driving. He checked his watch again. '5:28 AM' it read. The Durselys would wake up in about two and a half hours hopefully. He began to walk through the streets with his head down and his hands tucked in his pockets. Taking a left at Burlings St., he found the Tonight Hotel. Harry had found the one star hotel, which allowed cash, on the Internet last week when the Durselys went out for dinner. The Tonight Hotel resembled an old apartment building with a blinking neon sign that read 'T_ni_ht _ote_'. The teenager boy entered the dusty lobby and made a beeline to the front counter. A balding, overweight, mid aged man sat behind the desk, his eyes transfixed on a Playboy magazine, and wore a nametag with the name 'Stan'. Harry cleared his throat loudly.

"Eh? Oh, 'Ello," the Stan grumbled and quickly hid his magazine.

"I want a private room until one o'clock, cash." The Stan raised an eyebrow but shrugged it off. 'At least the kid, doesn't look like a criminal,' he thought. Stan began to rummage underneath the counter. Finally he pulled out an old room key, and handed it to Harry, no questions asked.

"Have a good one, kid," Stan mumbled before returning to his magazine, but the younger boy paid no mind to him as he walked up the rickety wood stairs. Harry stopped when he reached the third floor and walked to Room 3F. The metal key clicked inside the lock of the door. Inside the room was small with dirty white walls, filthy brownish grey carpet, a queen size bed cover in a hideous comforter, and a wooden table, closet, and chair. Ignoring the tasteless décor of the room, he locked the door, dropped his knapsack on the bed, removed the black plastic from the pack, and walked into the room's bathroom.

Once inside the bathroom, Harry emptied the contents of the bag onto the sink counter. A large bottle of hair dye, a case of eye contacts, a latex sponge, and a packet of foundation fell onto the counter. Harry picked up the bottle of hair dye first, and began to apply on his jet-black hair. He continued his task being carefully to cover every lock with the liquid substance. The musty, bar soap replaced shampoo as he rinsed the dye form his hair over the sink. He looked at his reflection in the cracked window, and smiled when he saw a blonde staring back at him. He checked his watch again. '6: 15 AM' it read. He set an alarm on his watch for noon. Flipping the bathroom lights off, he reentered the hotel room. He plopped onto the bed, ignoring the puff of dust that came from it. Sleep arrived as soon as he closed his eyes.

'Ting, Ting, Tang, Ting, Ting' his watch chimed extremely low, but Harry was a very light sleeper. Green eyes flashed open. They blinked at the sight of the strange environment, but quickly recognized the setting as memories rushed in. He rolled out of bed, literally, and fell with a thud on the dirty carpet. Lifting himself up, he ventured into the bathroom once again. He washed up quickly, and then moved on to the items on the counter from earlier before. First came the contacts, he had bought from an eye doctor back in Little Whinnings. They where tinted a bright blue, and took away the purpose of his glasses, which were tucker safely into his pocket. Next were the latex sponge and foundation. Dipping the sponge into the foundation, he began to dap at his scar. Finally the unwanted lighting shaped mark was concealed. Harry stared at his reflection again.

"Merlin, I look like bloody Malfoy," he chuckled. The new blonde returned to the hotel room and retrieved any of his possessions. Exiting the room he headed back to the lobby. Stan was still sitting at the front counter.

"How much do I owe you?" Harry asked taking out the two hundred thirty pounds from his pocket. Stan raised an eyebrow as he absorbed his new appearance.

"Thirty five pounds," he mumbled.

"Wow, the cab ride here cost twice then that," the younger of the two stated as he handed the bills and room key to the hotel employee.

"See ya," Harry called out as he left the dingy hotel. Two weeks ago, he had witness the death of Cedric Diggory, an innocent. He had also witness the rise of the Dark Lord. Nightmares had become a norm for him. No one believed him though so why should he care about their rules. Why should he stay loyal when no one cared about him? His eyes twitched at that thought, and a crooked smile formed on his face. Before he could do anything though he needed money, both wizard and muggle. His destination was the Leaky Cauldron, and the only thing that could hinder his path was a muggle mall.

Harry paused at the entrance of the mall. The glass paneling of the entrance acted as mirrors, and from the head down he still looked like Harry Potter. One hundred and ninety-five pounds were still burning a whole in his pocket after all. Entering the building he began is journey. He wanted something completely different then what he was before. He found what he was looking for at a gothic clothing store. Smirking, he explored the store. Thirty minutes later he left the store with and arm full of bags and only thirty-two pounds left in his pocket.

The mall restrooms were quite clean something you wouldn't expect from a public London mall. Harry shuffled through the shopping bags until he found something suitable. With the bundle of clothes in hand, he entered a stall. Five minutes later he returned, and headed to the restroom mirror. After applying accessories and other products he looked at his reflection. Staring back at him was most defiantly not Harry Potter. The fourteen year old teenager wore black denim jeans, that were shredded at certain areas, a dark fishnet undershirt, a black 'Rolling Stone' t-shirt, black, leather, distress, combat boots, a spiked, leather belt, matching spiked collar, leather, black, fingerless gloves, and a black leather jacket. His bottle blonde was flatten and streaked with red, and black eyeliner surrounded his eyes.

Leaving the restroom, Harry founded a luggage store, and spent thirty pounds on a black rolling suitcase and black messenger. Quickly, he moved his possessions from the knapsack into the suitcase, excluding any of his hand-me-down clothes, and added his newly bought clothing instead. In the messenger bag, he placed personal items including his wand. Before he left, he spent his last two pounds on a cup of coffee, two creams and five sugars, and a scone. Once done with his snack he dumped the knapsack, filled with hand-me-downs, in the trash. He had bought another watch, which was resting inside his messenger bag. Harry looked at the watch on his wrist. It was old, tight, and had cartoon characters pasted on it, but faithful to him. He couldn't throw it out. Signing he removed the watch from his wrist and shoved it inside the messenger bag. Taking out the new black watch, he attached it to his wrist. '1:59 PM' it read.

"Crap," he mumbled as he ran out from the mall pulling his suitcase behind him. He didn't stop until he reached a dark street. Smiling he watch as a strange man, dressed in scarlet robes, entered the only building that was boarded up. The sign of the building hung dangerously by thin chains. 'The Leaky Cauldron' it read. With a smirk, Harry Potter entered the wizard pub.

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